Useless Without You
by damonandelenaforthewin
Summary: A horrific event breaks Elena's trust in Stefan, as it simultaneously brings her closer to Damon. But which brother does she trust? Which brother does she love? And which brother was she truly meant for?
1. You Left Me In The Dark

**A/N: this was written 7 episodes before the season finale, and at the time this is how i envisioned the season finale might go. The story starts out on the premise that the town was out celebrating founder's day, and during the parade Katherine, who already knew of Elena, kidnapped Jeremy. **

My mind was empty, and yet crowded, at the same time. There was no other way to explain it. It was like a dozen people were in my head- arguing, theorizing, complaining- but they were all drowned out, all barely audible. Because the second part of me was completely numb. Struck by fear…by the crushing white shock of what had just happened.

"Elena? Elena, what's going on? What's wrong?" Stefan says. His voice is full of concern and panic. Damon stands further back, looking past Stefan to me, his blue eyes focused, with a hint of worry in them.

At the sound of my name, I finally felt the tears brimming in my eyes, and the painful hollow feeling in my chest.

"He's gone. She took him. He's gone." My voice cracks, even though I'd spoken barely above a whisper.

"Who's gone?" Damon asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Jeremy. She took him. Katherine…she took him."

And then the world came rushing at me, and everything was black.

* * *

"Elena. Elena, wake up. Elena?"

Elena opened her eyes, and found that the person calling her name was Stefan. He sat beside her, gently holding her hand. She was in Stefan's house, in Stefan's living room, the familiar couch supporting her. But…but that wasn't right. She hadn't been in his house just a moment ago…and then she remembered.

"Stefan, what- how- how did I get here? I can't be here. I have to go, I have to save Jeremy," Elena said, her words stumbling out in a panic, as she half-jumped off of the couch.

"Shh, Shh. Calm down, Elena. It's going to be okay. You passed out. It's only been a few minutes. Don't worry. I'm going to find him. I'm gonna make sure he's okay," Stefan said, putting his hands on Elena's shoulders. It was a gesture that Elena assumed was meant to comfort her. But she only felt trapped.

"No. She told me. She told me what the bargain was. I have to give her what she wants. If i don't go- It's the only way to save him," Elena replied, shaking her head as her voice rose frantically.

Stefan shook his head gently. "I can't let you do that. She'll _kill _you, Elena. I can't let that happen."

Elena looked at him, her brown eyes suddenly confused.

"What do you mean?" Elena asked, her voice thick with apprehension, as she asked the question she was sure she knew the answer to, but hoped desperately was wrong.

"You're staying here. You are _not_ leaving the house. And Damon's going to make sure of that. But I _am_ going to save Jeremy," Stefan said, an air of determination surrounding him. "I promise."

It was then that Elena finally noticed Damon, standing several feet away. His eyes, as usual, gave nothing away. But Elena imagined she saw a flicker of disagreement. That someone, anyone, was on her side; that someone else disagreed with Stefan's decision.

Elena stood up from the couch slowly, wishing Stefan wasn't so close to her. The tears that had been threatening to fall finally cascaded down her face, but she didn't acknowledge them.

"You can't do this. You can't keep me here, Stefan. It's my brother. Why are you doing this?" Elena couldn't believe it. Who was Stefan to tell her what to do? To stop her from what she _had_ to do?

Stefan's demeanor changed; he was pleading now. He didn't want to be the bad guy- but there was no way in _hell_ he was going to let Elena deliver herself to Katherine. He could rescue Jeremy without her ever having to be in danger.

"Don't you get it, Elena? Can't you see?" Stefan could hear the desperation in his voice.

"I'm doing this for you. I can't lose you. Please tell me you understand."

Elena looked up and into his eyes, and suddenly she did understand. She understood that Stefan wasn't going to change his mind, that she'd have to find another way out. Another way to Jeremy, without his- or Damon's, help. But she knew Stefan wouldn't leave until she agreed with him, and every minute ticking by was a minute Jeremy was out there, alone, afraid, with a homicidal vampire holding him hostage. So she feigned compliance, feigned defeat, and let him think she was going to go along with it.

"I understand," Elena whispered, sitting back down. "I'll stay here."

She let her head fall slightly, not sure where to look.

Still in the corner of the room, Damon re-crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. That wasn't the Elena Gilbert _he_ knew- backing down with barely a fight? _Something_ was up. But he kept silent.

Meanwhile, Stefan smiled, weakly.

"Thank you. And remember. I will find him."

But as Stefan turned to leave, Elena raised her head again, and called for him.

"Stefan, wait. There's something you have to understand, too," Elena said, her voice different than before, full of a will and a conviction she hadn't had before.

"Yes?" He asked, tentatively.

Elena took a breath, ignoring the shaking, choking sound in her throat.

"If Jeremy- if he's hurt," Elena began, steeling herself, "Or if he _dies_...I will _never._ Forgive you."

Damon's eyebrows shot up, as his eyes flashed to Elena, then to Stefan, then Elena again. He'd seen Elena mad, and he'd seen Elena righteous, but never once had he seen her so…_thoroughly disgusted_ with his brother.

But Stefan's only reply was to nod, and then he was gone.

* * *

Elena waited a few moments, shivering even though there was a fire lit not five feet away from her, before promptly jumping up from the couch as quickly as she could, intent on going out the front door. But Damon was, predictably, directly in front of her in under a second.

"Aaaand just where do you think you're going?" Damon asked, his eyes dancing with the sarcastic, mock-playful tone he preferred to actually showing emotion.

"I'm going, Damon," Elena replied simply.

"What happened to your 'understanding' ? Don't tell me you _lied_. And to _Stefan, _no less." Damon's mouth curled up into a smirk, challenging Elena. But she wasn't about to banter with him; she didn't have time for it. Instead she went straight into attack mode, saying things that were guaranteed to garner his attention.

"Do you actually agree with this? Being Stefan's personal guard dog? You know Katherine better than anyone, Damon. Stefan isn't going to find them. And even if he does, She'll kill Jeremy. It's me for my brother. It's _me_ who has to do this," Elena replied, glaring at Damon. She was disgusted with him, too, for ever agreeing with Stefan.

Damon blanched, not caring to be called anyone's _guard dog, _let alone his brother's. But he stood firmly in front of Elena, preventing her escape.

The fire crackling behind them was casting odd shadows across the room, and with the look on Elena's face, the shadows seemed to imply that her anger fueled their flames. But her stubborn desire to defy Stefan's wishes didn't come from a place of hate- they came from love. Because she knew that her being in this house was Jeremy's death. Katherine had been clear enough with that: It was a trade. Her life for his.

But for the life of her- quite literally, in fact- Elena couldn't understand Katherine's motivation. Was it a game? Some twisted form of jealousy? But jealousy of what? Stefan's love? Damon's questionable friendship? _She _had left _them._ So why did she want them back _now_? But that hardly mattered. Katherine wanted Elena dead. And Elena had come to terms with it. Welcomed it, a little, in fact. Because she was tired of the fear, and the pain…the mind games, even her own weaknesses. It just needed to be over. She just needed to be done.

"Elena…be serious, here. He's…he's of Gilbert blood. Technically, he isn't even your brother," Damon said, his tone still straining for the faux-playfulness. He was trying to calm her down. Because he knew that for all Katherine's pretend innocence, her laughter and beauty, her fickle, flighty nature- she was a more devious killer than himself. The extent of her cruelty, mingled with her intense hatred of Elena- for sharing her face, for sharing her boys- meant her certain death. And for reasons he couldn't quite understand, that couldn't happen. It just couldn't.

Elena's response wasn't at first in words- but in a slap. The sound cracked in her ears as she struck Damon's handsome face, for the third time since she'd known him.

"How _dare_ you talk about something you know nothing about!" Elena raged, the tears flowing again. "I was at the hospital the day he was born. I played with him, I watched over him. I-I taught him how to tie his shoes, I helped him with his homework, and I _tried_ to protect him from- from- all of _this_. I don't _care _what Stefan says or- or about any pieces of paper, or even _blood_. He is my _brother_. And nothing- _nothing_- can change that."

Damon stared at Elena. Her form was pitiable, her body shaking with rage, hot tears dripping down her face- she didn't even know how truly weak she was. How easy it would be for even an underfed vampire like Stefan to snap her neck in the blink of an eye. And yet, she _wanted_ to do this. Any sensible human would respond with cowardice, would save themselves instead- but as he looked in her eyes, and heard the frantic beating of her heart as she finished her outburst- he didn't even feel the initial rage he usually felt whenever she hit him. All he felt was the pure love she was made of.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"You do realize, if I let you go…she _will_ kill you," He said, his brow knitted together, still hoping she'd abandon her cause, but another part of him admiring her for it.

"I know that, Damon. But there's something _you_ don't realize," Elena replied, her voice calm. She reached out a slender hand, and held it to Damon's cheek,; not in a romantic way, but as a thank-you.

"And what's that?" Damon asked, his skin burning where she touched him.

"That love…any kind of _real_ love…It's not about who you would kill for, Damon. It's about who you would _die_ for."

And with that, Elena removed her hand, and was out the door, running. She wasn't sure, but she had an idea of where she was supposed to go: where it had all began.

And unbeknownst to her, Damon was already following.

* * *

By the time Elena had reached the tomb, she could barely breathe. It had been about six miles, she guessed, from the Salvatore home and down into the woods, and she'd ran the whole way. She'd had to- she had no idea how long it would be before Katherine would get bored of the game, forgo the deal they had, and kill Jeremy for the hell of it.

As she entered the darkness, she wished with all her heart that she'd thought to bring a flashlight- not out of fear of what was in the dark, but so that she could find Jeremy quicker. The only vampire left in this tomb was the one that was _supposed_ to kill her, anyways.

But as it turned out, she did have light. She neared a passage way that was glowing from torchlight, the one she was obviously intended to go down. And as she squelched a final pang of fear and continued on, she heard a slight rustling behind her. But she didn't stop to see what it was.

* * *

Damon watched as Elena entered the god forsaken tomb he'd once believed inhabited Katherine. _How ironic_, Damon thought bitterly. _Of all the places to kill Elena, she _would_ pick the tomb_. Katherine had always had a flair for the dramatic.

But no. Elena wasn't going to die tonight. He had made up his mind as soon as Elena had ran from his home. Ever since Katherine had returned to Mystic Falls, she had only proven Stefan right: she was a sadistic, selfish creature; incapable of love, of kindness, of any real feeling. Damon grimaced at the thought that more than a few people had said the same about him; but this was where that ended.

He had come to the conclusion that, yes, someone would die, tonight. Someone with big, brown eyes and long, dark hair, and the kind of laughter that fascinated you. Someone he used to love…who had just been a monster, all along.

He gripped the wooden, homemade stake in his right hand and followed Elena inside.

* * *

"Elena!"

"Oh my God, Jeremy!" Elena replied, running to him. There he was. She'd _found _him.

The passage she'd followed down ended in a small room; if you could call it that. The rock walls were a sickly orange color under the firelight of torches set up all around, and there was a small wooden table and a chair in the corner. But Elena didn't pause to see what was on it- her only concern was Jeremy, who was sitting against the wall, bound by chains embedded in the rock.

"Jeremy, Jeremy, are you okay?" Elena gasped, kneeling down to hold her brother, checking him for cuts or bite wounds. But he appeared to be in one piece.

"Elena. I'm fine. But you need to help him- she chained him, too…but he hasn't woken up," Jeremy replied, staring behind Elena's shoulder.

"Who? What?" Elena asked, turning. And that's when she saw him. _Stefan. _

* * *

"Damon, honey, is that you?"

The voice was sweet, sugary. But it carried an aftertaste with it, if you listened hard enough; it was _too_ sweet. Burnt. Sickly. Decaying. It made Damon cringe- or maybe what had made him cringe was the pain he felt at the back of his neck. The stake he'd brought with him fell from his hand as he dropped to the ground- Katherine had gotten the jump on him. He recognized that the sensation had been the sting of a needle, which normally wouldn't have hurt him at all- but if the searing fire infiltrating his veins was any indication, the syringe had been full of vervain. His eyes grew heavy as he began to pass out, but on the inside he was screaming.

"Don't worry, Damon. It's just like going to sleep."

That was the last thing Damon heard, as Katherine's face hovered above his, her curls loose around her shoulders, and her fangs protruding from her gums, as she smiled down at him.


	2. This One, She's Outta Control

Katherine dragged Damon's body down the passageway. She knew _the girl _was already inside; comforting her idiot mortal brother, promising him it would "all be okay." And it would be…_for him._ Well, maybe. If Katherine chose to be nice. She hadn't decided yet.

She left Damon just outside the entrance- he wasn't to be seen just yet. He was a surprise. Just like Stefan was. And a fun surprise they would be.

Katherine walked up to the Gilbert girl, but she was not what Katherine had expected. She had expected to smell the fear, to hear the frantic heartbeat, to see the panic in her little look-alike's eyes. But the child was curiously calm. It didn't matter, though; it wouldn't last for long.

"Elena, my dear. It's so nice to see you again. But I'm afraid it's past your bedtime."

And before the girl could respond, Katherine had struck out at her. Her skull hit the rock wall with a satisfying _crack_; not hard enough to kill, or even permanently damage…just enough to put her to sleep. Katherine vaguely realized the girl's brother was screaming; it was hurting her ears. She turned to him and compelled him into silence, and then went about chaining the Gilbert girl and Damon with the remaining sets of manacles embedded in the walls.

* * *

Elena didn't want to open her eyes; the throbbing of her head told her that much. But then she began to remember; bits and pieces of the past couple of hours fitting together in her mind to form a fuzzy, but comprehensible, picture. Her memories were followed by the intense urgency to know if Jeremy and Stefan were okay, so she forced herself to regain consciousness in full.

When Elena's eyes did open, she realized she was chained up, too. And that Damon, of all people, was to her right; Jeremy to her left; and Stefan just across, still asleep, shrouded in shadow.

Elena turned to Jeremy, but he was just sitting there, seemingly untouched. She turned her attention to Damon, who _didn't_ seem so untouched.

"Damon? Why are you here?" Elena croaked out; her throat hurt to speak. She assumed she'd been screaming.

Damon eyed her weakly. The vervain had, how they said, 'done a number on him'. It took a good part of his strength just to reply to her.

"Well, St. Stefan was running a little late with the rescue team, so I thought I'd play white knight for a bit," He replied, before absconding into a coughing fit.

Elena's face changed, her features becoming flat and lifeless, as an emotion he couldn't quite name crossed her face.

"You came here to save me." It was less of a question, and more like a statement. Elena's voice was low as she continued.

"You're here, because of me. Just like Stefan. Just like Jeremy. It's all my fault."

Elena wasn't pitying herself; she was hating herself. All of their pain, all of their fear- everything that happened to them tonight was _her_ fault.

"Oh, _Elena_. Stop being so dramatic, would you? It's not as if these two aren't _already_ dead. And little Jeremy's going to be _juuuuust_ fine."

Elena turned at the sound of the voice, one so close to her own, and her gaze found Katherine's. The vampire's small frame was propped up against the entrance to the room, and she was doing what Elena might have considered smiling- except that it wasn't quite right. Her features, although so identical to Elena's, couldn't have been more opposite in that moment. That twisted look on her face- it may have been shaped like a smile; but it was made of hatred.

"Why- why is he still here? Why are they here? You- you said the trade was me for my brother. And why isn't he talking?" Elena asked frantically, finally noticing that Jeremy hadn't said a word since she'd woken up. He was awake- but simply staring. At the walls, at the air, into nothing.

Katherine laughed coquettishly, and took the few steps that were needed to close the space between Elena and herself.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, darling. I just needed him to be quiet. All that screaming, not good for my ears," Katherine said, tapping at her earlobe. "He's only still here because I thought you would want to give him a proper goodbye. But of course, for all my troubles of not killing him, I only get interrogated."

Elena didn't reply.

Katherine turned to Jeremy, and locked eyes with him. "You can speak now," she whispered.

Jeremy suddenly jerked back to life, and pulled on his restraints.

"Elena? Elena, what the hell is going on?" he shouted.

Elena looked up at Katherine, who in turn, nodded. She produced a key, and in a flash unlocked Jeremy's wrists from the manacles. Before Elena could respond, Katherine unlocked Elena, too.

"Just don't run off anywhere. You know the deal."

Elena nodded and turned to Jeremy.

"Elena, you have to tell me, what is happening? One minute I'm walking home from school, and the next I'm locked up in here. Who is she? Why does she look like you? Is she- is she a vampire?"

Jeremy's rapid-fire questions were confusing Elena's still-pounding headache; it all sounded like static before she separated the individual thoughts he'd expressed.

"Jeremy, listen to me, You're going to be okay," Elena began, tears biting at her eyes. She had to lie to him, one last time. To save him. "Yes, she's a vampire, but she's…she's a friend of Damon and Stefan's. Your being here is just a mistake. You need to go home."

Jeremy listened, but he wasn't buying it.

"You expect me to believe that, Elena? She slammed your head into the wall, and you expect me to believe this is all okay? Nuh-uh. I'm not going anywhere."

Elena panicked now. She could almost hear the words that Katherine would say to this; _Let him stay, then. I'm sure he'd make a nice. Little. Snack._

"No!" Elena yelled, pushing Jeremy towards the doorway of the tomb. Behind them, Katherine was smiling, and Damon was slowly coming to again. But Stefan was still unconscious.

"Jeremy. Please. You have to listen to me. I'm going to be _fine_. I promise you, _you will see me again. _But you need to go, Jer, please. For Jenna. For me. For mom and dad. _Please_."

Jeremy swallowed, his throat thick with thirst. Elena was begging him, pleading with him. He didn't understand why, but he would do it for her.

"Where do I go?"

Elena sighed inwardly, relieved. But her face was calm and serious.

"Home. Now. Run."

And with that, Jeremy, ran, out into the darkness, out into the forest, out into the world. And Elena prayed that Katherine _would_ keep her promise, even after her life was over, and that Jeremy would get to see another day.

Behind her, Katherine giggled.

* * *

"You know Elena, you really shouldn't have lied to the boy," Katherine said, chaining Elena back to the wall beside Damon. "He's never going to see you alive again."

Katherine had whispered that last part, just inches from Elena as she stared into her eyes, and Elena shivered at the her hot breath on her face. It reeked of stale blood. Elena fought the urge to gag.

Damon sat up a bit, a growl low in his throat. He was becoming more and more conscious, but was still fairly weak.

"You're not going to touch her, you crazy bitch," He spat, positively livid. But before he could finish his insult, his chest was wracked with another round of coughing. His body was trying to expel the vervain from his system. Katherine ignored his outburst, however, and continued on.

"And even if he did see you again- at your funeral, perhaps- he won't look at you. Not without vomiting. Because you're going to be a very _different_ Elena, by the end of this night. It's going to be phenomenal."

Elena wasn't exactly afraid- she was already expecting her death. But Katherine's words had sparked interest in her; she didn't understand them.

"What do you mean, a 'different' Elena?" She asked, her skin tingling. Did Katherine mean she was going to turn her? And what would be the point in _that_?

Katherine laughed at Elena's confusion, the light-hearted trills completely wrong, coming out of a being of such malicious intent.

"Oh, sweetheart. Did you think I brought you here just to kill you? Now, what would be the fun in that?" Katherine purred, cocking her head to the side, before continuing.

"Let me lay this out straight for you," Katherine began, a bitter, serious tone creeping into her voice. "I loathe your existence for two very simple reasons: one, you've captured the love of _both_ my boys. And that was _without _compulsion!" Katherine screamed the ending of her sentence, pacing around the room as she turned to acknowledge a weak, choking Damon and an unconscious Stefan.

Damon's eyes nervously flashed to Elena, the icy blue of his irises on fire at Katherine's revelation; but Elena had barely registered the fact that Katherine had implied Damon was in love with her, too; she was enraptured by Katherine's transformative anger. _She really _is_ insane_.

"And two: you. Stole. My. Face. And so….I'm going to take it back." Katherine was back in front of Elena now, her mouth once again upturned into that wicked not-a-smile.

"By the time I'm done with you, Elena Gilbert…." Katherine started, shaking her head in bemusement, "They won't even recognize your corpse."

And then, slowly, deliberately, Katherine produced a small, silver instrument; sharper than a razorblade, and specifically designed for cutting human flesh: a scalpel.

* * *

When Elena spoke next, her voice was inconceivably calm. She was every emotion inside her, except fear- she was _over_ being afraid. The prospect of having her face cut up wasn't exactly invoking images of fuzzy ducklings and kittens into her mind's eye; but Jeremy was safe, and that had been all that mattered. That was, until Katherine had brought Stefan and Damon into it. Upon remembering that, she had dissolved into her anger completely.

"You. Can do. Whatever you want to me. But why are _they _here?" Elena asked, jerking her head to indicate the two vampires chained beside her. "They weren't a part of our deal."

Katherine laughed, caressing the edge of the scalpel, as if it were a pet.

"Oh, silly girl. They're my boys. Always will be. I'm not going to hurt them. They're only here to watch. After all, they moved on. _Forgot _me. They have to be punished _somehow," _Katherine replied, sitting in the chair that was at the table she'd set up. "And as soon as my little Stefan wakes up, we'll start the fun."

Damon had pushed himself into a sitting position, by now, and his coughing had seemed to subside. "You lay a finger on her and I'll- "

"Do what, Damon? You're chained to a wall. By chains enforced with vervain. Unbreakable. Had to wear gloves just to install the damn things. You're lucky you're wearing long sleeves, or your wrists would be on fire," Katherine interrupted, smirking in his direction.

Elena could tell that the black, visceral rage in Damon was partially the reason he'd regained consciousness. But why hadn't Stefan woken up at _all?_

"Stefan. What did you to Stefan?" Elena asked. If Damon had awoken, Stefan should have, too.

Katherine's face fell into what could only be described as a pout. Elena could clearly see Katherine as she had been as a child- crying, and sulking, and pouting- until she got what she wanted. A manipulator even back then.

"Oh, Stefan. My Stefan. He's the biggest disappointment, you know. He doesn't care about me anymore- he forgot about me a long time ago. Damon may hate me, but that's only because he loved me so. And at least hate is strong…passionate. But Stefan…" Katherine paused, kneeling by Stefan's feet and caressing his face. Damon made a sound of disgust; Elena merely stared.

"And what he eats! I don't know what in hell possesses him to feed off of _animals_. I could smell that his blood was all wrong from a mile away. It's why he hasn't woken up, by the way. The vervain I dosed him with- half the strength, twice the effect, I suppose. But he'll wake up eventually." Katherine turned to face Elena again, her eyes narrowing.

"But why are you so worried? The sooner he wakes up, the sooner you get cut. Are you too stupid to realize that? Or are you just _dying_ for a makeover?" Katherine asked cruelly, crossing her legs as she sat back down.

Elena stared daggers into her doppelganger's face, wishing the vampire could sense just a _little bit _of the blinding anger Elena felt.

"Actually, I _do_ realize that. And I just want this to be over. And I'm worried because I _love_ him, _Katherine_. Are _you_ too stupid to realize that? Or do you just not know what _real_ feelings are?" Elena replied, mimicking Katherine's tone.

But Katherine wasn't at all amused. Her eyes lit up, sharp as daggers, and it only took an instant for her to be at Elena's side, attacking her. As Elena screamed out, another voice screamed with her; but she hardly heard it through the pain.

* * *

Damon knew what Elena was trying to accomplish. She was trying to bait Katherine into just outright killing her, instead of enduring the sadistic torture she'd planned. And he couldn't blame her, of course- but he still screamed out when Katherine had taken hold of Elena's wrist. He heard the bones in her arm snap like twigs, like nails on a chalkboard. But the timbre of Elena's scream; it said more. She was in more pain than just any regular broken arm.

And sure enough, when he looked down at the wrist she cradled, the broken bone was sticking out, blood pouring down her arm as she sobbed. _A compound fracture, that's what they called it_, Damon thought. _I'm going to tear that wretched bitch apart._

"There's one thing you're wrong about, Katherine," Damon hissed, attacking her the only way he could at the moment: with his words. "And predictably, you made it all about yourself. There is no way in hell I could ever really love you. There isn't a single molecule in you even _worthy_ of love. No…I _hate_ you because…" Damon paused, his blue eyes twinkling as he managed a lopsided grin, "…you're completely batshit insane."

Elena was still crying, holding her wrist but unable to look down at the ripped flesh. She just hoped the blood would keep flowing out- maybe then she'd be dead before Stefan woke up. He didn't need to see this; and he especially shouldn't have to watch what Katherine was _planning_ on doing to her. Meanwhile, Katherine had screwed her face up into a grimace; jealousy morphing her delicate features, a storm brewing under the surface of her olive skin.

"Don't you _dare_ lie to _me_, Damon Salvatore. I'm the one that _made _you. All the little girls you've killed, all the hearts you've ripped out, all the blood- it's all thanks to _me_. I turned you. I taught you how to be. So don't think you can _fool_ me,' Katherine spat out, venom practically dripping from her words.

"You loved me _very _much. And you would still love me, even after everything I've done…if it weren't for _her_. So why don't you tend to your little _whore? _Because if Stefan's going to ruin the party by sleeping, then I have better places to be until he wakes up." And with that, Katherine had disappeared.


	3. Not Fighting For Nothing

**A/N: Parts of this may seem a little OCC for Damon, but it IS a pretty out of character situation, and even though i wrote this before the season finale, i always knew he had a sentimental side that was capable of being like this-and Founder's day proved me right(: enjoy(: ps. cus i've forgotten to say it before: love & appreciation goes out to anyone and everyone who reads or reviews! **

"Shh, shh, Elena. You're going to be okay. Just let me see your arm," Damon said, pushing himself as close to Elena as possible. Elena turned her tear-stained face towards Damon.

"What are you- what are you going to do?" Elena asked.

"I'm going to help you. I can get us out of here, okay? Just give me your arm," Damon repeated.

Elena's arm had stopped bleeding, but the pain was still intense. She didn't know what Damon was going to accomplish- what was a broken arm if she was going to die, anyways? But in her fragile state she listened to him, and slowly, slowly, extended her arm towards him.

Damon carefully took hold of her broken extremity, studying the wound. He'd never actually gone to medical school or had training of any kind- being a doctor had always been Stefan's dream- but he'd been injured and _don_e the injuring enough times to know what had to be done in this instance. And it wasn't going to be pretty.

"Elena, I'm going to have to do something…it's going to hurt. But just for a moment. And then it _won't _hurt anymore. Can you do this?" Damon asked. Elena nodded weakly.

Damon was doing something out of character- he didn't tell her the whole truth. Didn't lie, exactly, but didn't inform her of the…repercussions. What he was about to do, could only have two outcomes. But both outcomes came with hope. Both outcomes were better than being _dead. _And even if she didn't see it that way, he wasn't going to let her go so easily. He _knew_ was her choice to make, but he wasn't going to let her have it. _God, I'm turning into my brother_.

"Okay, now. Close your eyes. And count to three, out loud for me, okay?"

Elena nodded again, closed her eyes tightly, took a deep breath, and began to count.

"One-"

Damon held her arm, his thumb underneath the wrist and his remaining fingers poised over the fragmented bone;

"Two-"

Damon ripped open his other wrist, tearing his flesh with his teeth;

"Three."

And then he closed his grip, pushing down on Elena's arm, _hard. _The bone that had been jutting out went back into place, as Elena screamed with all the air in her lungs, screamed as if it were happening all over again. Damon was quick, though; in the same moment she began to scream he'd shoved his already bloody wrist into Elena's open, shrieking mouth. With his impossibly fast, fluid movements, the whole thing hadn't taken more than the three seconds Elena had counted down.

Elena instinctively swallowed the blood trickling from Damon's wrist, and in another five seconds her skin had healed over. The bone and flesh were whole once again, as if nothing had ever happened. Not even a scar graced the skin.

Damon removed his wrist from her mouth, allowing his own wound to heal itself. Elena was panting, out of breath- but at least she was out of pain. Elena looked down at her arm, marveling at it, before she it slowly dawned on her what it meant.

"Damon. You- do you realize what you've done?" Elena whispered, her eyes wide with shock as he stared back at her. His mouth was firm, but he didn't look back at her with regret, or guilt, or even shame- not that he had a facial expression reserved for those emotions in the first place.

"It had to be done, Elena. You know it. I'm surprised Katherine didn't realize it- putting us so close together- she didn't think that I would…" Damon trailed off, when he noticed that Elena was still staring down at her arm in horror.

"I didn't want this, Damon. I was ready. I was ready to die tonight. I don't want to be this…a vampire. When she does kill me, I'm just going to come back. And then what happens?" Elena said fiercely, her eyes now looking at him with all the unsaid accusations and insults.

"Elena, calm down. I did it so you wouldn't be in pain. But this is only the first step. I have a plan. I can get us out of here," Damon pleaded, his eyes flashing with the distinct, if rare, look of vulnerability, that one that only seemed to show up when he was talking with Elena.

Elena was still tense, but it wasn't as if she had a lot of options. "I'm listening."

"Okay. Katherine's gone. And she'll _stay_ gone, until Stefan wakes up. Judging from the dose of vervain _I _got, we have about a half an hour until that happens. Now, you may have my blood in your system; but that doesn't change you all on its own- you know that. If we can escape before- before- " Damon paused, not wanting to imagine the possibility.

"Before she comes back and kills me?" Elena interjected.

"Yes. Before that- if we can escape before that- then you'll be safe, and you'll be human. And if we can't escape _before that_- then we'll at least be out of here soon after. You becoming a vampire is just…just a possibility, a safety net. But I will do everything in my power to keep it from happening. You just have to trust me," Damon finished.

Elena processed the information, and soon found a flaw.

"What do you mean by trust you, exactly? Trust you with what?" Elena asked. She had caught him hiding something. Damon sighed.

"If I'm going to get us out of here- you _and_ Stefan- then I'm going to have to be at my strongest. And for me to be at my strongest…._you_ have to be strong, too…." Damon replied, his eyes implying the rest. It took Elena a moment before the truth fully dawned on her.

"I can't believe this. You gave me your blood so I would heal, just so you could take it back out of me?" Elena asked, the disgusted awe plain on her face. It all fit together now, and it was all very, very Damon…but Elena also saw that it was the only chance they might have at them _all_ surviving. And Damon knew she understood.

"You know it's the only way, Elena," was all Damon said. "You know Katherine won't actually leave me and Stefan unharmed, let alone _Jeremy_. She got you here with him as bait, but as soon as she's done playing this game, she'll do whatever she wants next. And I'm too weak to break out of these chains in the state I'm in now. This is the only way."

Elena nodded. And, with one last glance at Stefan, she tilted her head back, exposing her neck to Damon, and bracing herself for the pain. _After all_, she mused, as Damon's fangs extended and his eyes reddened, _What have I got to lose? _

* * *

The pain wasn't quite as horrible as she thought it would be; neither was the overall experience. Elena had always had images in her mind, of how Damon killed his victims; she'd seen him pursuing women before, using that smile and that sarcastic wit; and then she'd seen the aftermath, like the bites all over Caroline's body, the missing memories, or in some cases, of course, the bloody death. And she obviously remembered the night he'd attacked Bonnie in the woods, how Bonnie had almost died, how Stefan had saved her life in the same way Damon had just healed Elena's arm.

But this didn't feel as bad as what they had seemed to experience. Maybe because she was willing? Because she wasn't struggling against him? She couldn't say- but she did recognize it as being different from when Vicki had attacked her. And she was grateful that he seemed to be more gentle with her than anyone else.

Elena felt Damon back away from her, finished, and she wondered if he'd gotten enough; it didn't seem like it. But she wasn't able to ask him, because her fatigue was finally taking its toll, as she drifted into sleep.

* * *

Elena's blood wasn't like anything he'd ever tasted before; it was better. Blood was like coffee in a way; it was an acquired taste, that grew to be addictive, and that never tasted quite the same, because everyone made it differently. There was the warmth of it, the underlying metallic taste. But Elena…she tasted almost _sweet. _It amazed him.

Damon could feel his body growing stronger with each passing second. The vervain had almost run its course, anyways, and Elena's blood was not only expediting the healing process, but giving him more and more power, more and more _strength_. Soon he realized he'd taken enough- if not, in fact, too much. He withdrew his fangs from Elena's neck, and watched as his bite wound on her healed, his own blood still working its magic in her body.

The process had tired Elena out- it often had that effect on humans- and she'd fallen asleep, slumped against the wall. He only had ten, maybe fifteen minutes, that he could count on for sure- fifteen minutes to try to figure out how to break out of _unbreakable _vervain chains.

He spent a good five of those minutes trying the most obvious- pulling on them. _I don't even have to break them_, he thought_. If only I can just pull them free from the wall… _But it soon became clear that it wasn't going to be that easy. So he studied the manacles encircling his wrists, attached to the chains. When he touched them with his bare fingertips, they burned his hands. _Because that's helpful, _he thought bitterly.

And then, it occurred to him- what he had to do. But it was a small price to pay to get his brother- and more urgently, _Elena_- out of the situation_. Katherine, you would have done better to just keep us both asleep,_ Damon thought, glancing at Stefan _But no. You just had to ensure that we'd wake up, so we would be forced to watch your little performance. _And Damon was grateful that she had. Because he was their only hope.

So, going against everything in him, every ounce of his self-preservation, every selfish thought he ever had, he took hold of his left hand with his right, and quickly snapped every bone in it. He hissed through his teeth, the pain exquisite; but didn't dwell on it. He only had seconds before they'd re-heal, but once his entire hand was broken, he was able to slip it through the manacles.

He, too, marveled at his self-healing hand, and then turned to repeat the process on the other.

_Elena better freaking appreciate this_, he thought, as he groaned out in pain again.

* * *

Elena awoke to the sound of a low gasp of pain escaping Damon's lips; she recognized his voice. She instantly thought, _Oh God. She's back_. But when she turned to look, Katherine was nowhere to be found- and Damon was _free. _He was free!

"Damon! You did it! You did it!" Elena exclaimed, a small laugh escaping her throat, her joy uncontainable. But Damon….Damon didn't look as thrilled.

"What's wrong? This is good, right? You're free," Elena repeated, confused. Damon looked down at her.

"Yeah, I'm free. But that- that was only the second step. It's not over yet."

Damon paced around the room, obviously nervous. He knew what he had to do next, and he knew how little time he had to do it, but he still procrastinated. This part was going to be so much harder. So much more painful for him. But it had to be done.

"Damon, exactly how many steps does your damn plan, anyway?" Elena asked, a little irritated. Why was she never in the loop? Maybe this wasn't the most opportune time to be bothered by this, but Damon was doing what Stefan always did, but Damon had never once done: lie to protect her from something. And she was damn tired of it. She'd come to expect it in Stefan- but not Damon. He wasn't going to start doing this now. But Damon hesitated to reply to her.

"Tell me, Damon. I'm tired of people acting like I can't handle what's happening around me. Just spit it out," Elena ordered.

Damon was taken aback, as he always was, at Elena's tendency to try and boss people around- especially him. But he gave it to her straight, like she asked. It was the right thing to do, and in his nature to be blunt, anyways.

"Turns out, I was wrong. You do have to be in pain, one more time. To escape, I'll have to do to you what I did to myself. I have to break your hands."

Damon grimaced as a wave of horror crossed Elena's dirt-smudged, but still regal, face.

* * *

"Elena, are you ready?" Damon asked, knowing the question was completely inane; no one was ever ready to have their _hands broken_. But Elena's reply was firm, regardless.

"Go ahead. Do it."

* * *

Damon hated that Elena's screams were now ingrained his mind. He would never forget the wrenching, wracking sound- it hurt a part of him inside, a piece of him he didn't recognize. And the pain was more intense in that spot than any other pain- he'd take vervain injections and broken hands a thousand times over just to get her screams out of his damned head.

But soon, if not soon enough, it was over. A bit more blood down Elena's throat, and her hands were fine again, and she, like him, was free.

"What's next, then?" Elena asked, kneeling by Stefan and stroking his face. Damon had the urge to say it should be _him _she was comforting, but, then again, he had just inflicted more physical pain on her then she'd probably ever endured before, and all at once, no less. So he kept quiet.

"Do we- do we break his hands, next?" Elena asked, timidly, turning to look at Damon. As she did so, she missed something very important- Stefan's hand had moved. He was coming to. Damon cursed inwardly, knowing, that even if just by minutes, by seconds- he was too late. He hadn't been quick enough. He sensed her just outside the tomb, as a thousand expletives, in more than a few languages, crossed his mind. And then, she was there.

"Well, well, well. What do I have here?"

Damon turned, and there she was: Katherine. _The love of my non-life_, he thought sarcastically. _This ought to be fun. _


	4. My BloodStained Sunday's Best

"Damon. I can't leave you alone for a second, can I? I said tend to the little brat, not try to take off with her," Katherine purred, moving in on Damon. Her movements were slow and calculated- trying to close the distance between herself and Elena. Her little imitator wasn't going anywhere. Katherine was sickened that Damon would even _try_ to save the girl. It was just so _rude. _

But Damon knew her too well; he noticed her circling movements and placed himself directly in front of Stefan and Elena. He was now her sole roadblock to ridding herself of the girl; and despite her fondness for him, her intriguing little bloodthirsty toy, she had no qualms with hurting him.

Katherine struck out, meaning to grab his neck, but he deflected- and suddenly, she was airborne. Her body hit the rock with a slam as she fell to the ground; a few of her ribs had been broken. She growled her displeasure while she waited for them to mend themselves.

"Now, that wasn't very nice," Katherine hissed, righting herself. Now she had to punish Damon for _that_, too. His pitiful attempts at thinking for himself were starting to irritate her.

"Well, you know what they say. It isn't 1864 anymore, Katherine. Chivalry is dead," Damon replied, smirking, waiting for her next assault.

Damon had lost the stake he'd brought along, but he wasn't afraid. She may be older, which always meant stronger- but fighting _for_ someone always carried more strength than fighting for yourself. Besides- there was more than one way to kill a vampire.

* * *

Elena didn't know what to do. Stefan was still unconscious, and Damon was brawling with Katherine. It was impossible to tell who was winning- they moved so fast that all Elena could distinguish was Damon's distinctive growls, Katherine's kitten-like hisses, and the ever-present sound of snapping bones- a sound she'd heard more times then she ever wished she had.

So she was stuck, like a deer in headlights, frantically looking back and forth from Stefan to Damon, unsure of what to do.

And then, all of a sudden, Damon paused to turn to her. His hands were around Katherine's neck, and her fingers were like claws, scrabbling at his arms and drawing blood, trying to escape his grasp.

"Elena, _what the hell are you waiting for?" _Damon screamed. "I'll take care of Stefan, just _run_!"

And in that moment, Elena trusted him. Trusted him enough to leave Stefan's side, and run for her life. She pushed herself up off her knees and broke our running as fast as she could- she was halfway down the passageway, outside to freedom, she could even smell fresh air- when she stumbled over something and sprawled to the floor, scraping her hands as she landed.

Elena got back up again, grasping for what she'd tripped over- and her hands met something smooth, and almost cylindrical- except for the sharp, pointy edge. A stake.

Elena glanced into the night, feeling cold air on her face- and then she looked back into the darkness, still able to hear the sounds of the two vampires, fighting to the death. _Damon's alone_, she thought panic rising. _Completely defenseless, with nothing but his own hands and teeth_.

And even though Elena trusted that Damon would, somehow, come through for her, and save Stefan- she didn't trust him to save _himself. _And she didn't want him to have to. He had come to save her- who would she be if she just _left _him now?

With an air of grim determination, Elena changed direction, and began running back into the darkness, back to her death, to save someone she loved, again.

* * *

Elena got to the entrance, the stake she had found shoved in her back pocket. Katherine was the first one to notice her; she now had Damon by the throat, his eyes in the back of his head. Choking a vampire wouldn't kill them, but it would render them unconscious. But upon seeing Elena, Katherine dropped him, and in seconds had Elena pinned against the wall.

"_You_," Katherine growled, the full extent of her insanity clear in her cold, dark eyes, "_You_ are the reason for all of this. I wanted to play with you. Have some _fun_ with you. But now, you get your wish: I'm just going to kill you, because you're more trouble than you're worth."

Katherine grasped the collar of Elena's shirt with her thin hands, raising Elena above her head, against the wall.

"Don't get me wrong Elena, it was very nice meeting you. But I think you've worn out your welcome."

Elena looked past Katherine's head, to Damon, who was on the ground, trying to get to her. But Katherine had done more damage than Elena had realized; Damon's left shoulder was ripped open, all the way to the bone, exposing muscle and dripping blood. His left ankle was bent at an unnatural angle, and various other cuts and bruises marred his body.

Elena looked Katherine dead in the eyes, preparing her final last words.

"Yes, Katherine. I believe I have. And believe me, the pleasure was all _mine_."

And before Katherine could react, Elena had grabbed the stake from behind her, and shoved the sharp piece of wood under Katherine's ribcage, directly through her heart. Whether Katherine's slow response was due to being weak from Damon's blows, or just because she had been curious as to what Elena was about to do, Elena would never know.

All she knew was the relief she felt as she fell to the ground, free of Katherine's grasp; and the confused look on Katherine's bloody face as she, too, fell to the ground, clutching her chest, as she died. Elena couldn't stand that look- it was one of many disturbing, bloody memories of that night she would have gladly allowed Damon to erase from her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to rid her mind of the images herself, through sheer force of will.

When Elena finally opened her eyes, She looked up to see Damon, staring at her in disbelief, his eyes going back and forth between her and Katherine's body. She also saw Stefan, who was now fully awake, pulling on his restraints as they burned his wrists- and also staring at Elena and Katherine.

Elena wanted to say something- anything- but the moment seemed beyond words. She had killed her first vampire. She had killed _the vampire. _She- Elena Gilbert- had managed to save them all. But not without Damon's help.

She looked up into Damon's clear, blue eyes, trying to communicate with him how thankful she was, how much he had done to help. But she didn't know if he had caught her message, because the moment was broken by Stefan.

Stefan had cleared his throat, but he was still gaping at Elena.

"What- what happened?"


	5. Fully Alive

Elena looked at reflection in her bathroom mirror, trying hard not to think of everything that had happened just two hours ago, yet thinking about it anyways, of course.

When everything was over, Damon had been the first one to move.

"What happened, little brother, is really something you had to be there for," Damon had said, answering Stefan's question, that Elena had just left hanging there. Damon's shoulder was still covered in blood, but it was at least partially healed, and he seemed to be able to walk just fine- which he proved by approaching Katherine's corpse and removing the key from her pocket.

Elena hadn't trusted herself to speak, so she'd merely watched as Damon unlocked Stefan's restraints and helped Stefan up. He had been fully conscious by then, but still weak from the vervain injection.

"I should've let you break free the hard way. But honestly, I never want to hear the sound of breaking bones again," Elena remembered Damon muttering. His statement had been directed to Stefan, but he'd been looking at her. She'd known that he was thinking about when he'd had to break her hands to get her free- when they'd been hoping to all get out of there before Katherine had returned.

The trio had managed to make it back to the Salvatore mansion without any interruptions. Elena hadn't understood at first why she couldn't just go home- she needed to check on Jeremy- but upon looking in a mirror, she'd understood immediately. Her neck and wrist had still been smeared her blood from where she'd been hurt. Her chin and lips had Damon's blood dried on them, and Elena had thanked _God_ Stefan hadn't asked about it. Her jeans were torn in several places- and of course, there was the large, very noticeable bloodstain on the front of her shirt from where Katherine had bled on when she had staked her. It was not a state Elena could return to Aunt Jenna to, so she'd cleaned up, put on a back-up outfit she kept in Stefan's room, and then conceded to _both_ brothers taking her home. Elena wasn't sure if Stefan had been aware of everything that had happened while he was unconscious- but regardless, she wasn't ready to talk about it. Not remotely ready. But even if he thought it was weird that Damon would want to come along, he didn't say anything. Elena had silently thanked him for that, too.

Now she was in her bathroom, staring at her sweat-pants-and-tank-top clad frame, and her messy, tangled hair, which was wet from the hot shower she'd taken. She'd spent forever in there, trying to scrub off the blood and dirt and smell of death that she knew wasn't physically on her- but she could still feel it.

Jeremy had been in his room, pacing, when she'd first walked in. She recalled the scared look on his face, followed by his relief at seeing her in one piece. He'd thought he'd never see her again. And how right he would have been, if not for her own tenacity and Damon's…compassion.

Jeremy was asleep now; and she knew she should be, too- but she couldn't sleep. Stefan hadn't stayed, not because he didn't want to, but because he needed to rest, and, more importantly, hunt. Although of course, that part had gone unspoken.

Damon had taken off the second she'd stepped foot into her house- he had "things to take care of." Elena had at first assumed he had meant "find a girl to feed off of" and she'd felt a strange pang in her chest, which she thought might be jealousy- except that that was ridiculous. And when she thought about it more, she realized that he'd probably just meant he needed to…bury the body, and that she had no right to be jealous, anyways, even if feeding off of some random girl _was _what he was doing at that moment. It wasn't pleasant, but it was necessary, and more importantly, not really her business.

Elena turned away from her reflection and opened the bathroom door, entering her room. She had resolved just to take sleeping pills- even if her mind was wide awake, her body needed the rest. But as soon as she swung the bathroom door opened, all thoughts of sleep had been forgotten.

"Damon?"

Damon was sitting on her bed. In new clothes, and no injuries, and probably full of blood- but also probably exhausted. Why wasn't he home, sleeping? But more importantly, why was he in her bedroom?

"Damon," Elena repeated, taking a step closer to him, her tone gentle. "What are you doing here?"

Damon was sitting on the end of her bed, his body facing her. He looked up to meet her eyes, but didn't reply.

"Did something happen?" Elena asked, slowly sitting on her bed besides him. But the moment she sat down, he was gone. He'd crossed her room in under a second, and was now standing beside her dresser, his back to her. He ran his finger over one of her favorite photos- one of the last photos of her, Jeremy, and her parents, before they'd passed.

Elena was getting anxious now. Of all the different sides of Damon's personality she'd come to know, blatant silence was not one of them. But if he wasn't going to reply to her, there was really nothing she could do about it. So she curled her legs up to her chest and watched him, as he looked through her pictures one by one. There was one of her and Jeremy at the beach on her tenth birthday. Dozens that she, Caroline and Bonnie had taken at a carnival two summers ago. She couldn't count how many she had tucked into the edges of her mirror.

"All of these pictures. You don't look like you," Damon finally said, his back still turned to her. "What changed?"

His tone was what Elena called 'dangerous'. It was his tone where he sounded sarcastic and carefree, but you could hear the tremor of a deeper emotion hiding below the words.

She pondered how to answer his question, and settled for the easiest answer.

"I got older."

Damon immediately shook his head.

"No. That isn't it. It's not your face that's changed. It's your eyes."

Elena was becoming uncomfortable. She didn't like this subject, because people only reacted to it two different ways: they either pitied her, which she hated, or they completely disregarded it, as if it weren't that big of a deal, which she also hated. But Damon didn't know what all those pictures had in common.

"Those pictures. They're all from…before my parents. Before they died."

Damon nodded, as if he had already known that had something to do with it.

"And you've never been happy since, have you? Not really," He stated, turning to look at her.

"That's not true," Elena replied immediately, looking perturbed. But the response was more like an instinct; an automatic reply she'd taught herself, to keep up the façade of pretending to have come to terms with her parents' death. She tried again, hoping to explain exactly what she felt.

"It's more like…the happiness is there. I have Stefan. I have my brother. I have my friends. But it's dim, you know? Everything used to be bright, and simple. But I guess…i guess after you know what it's like to be sad, it all looks different. It all matters a little less, when what mattered the most is gone."

Damon nodded, swallowing. The look on his face had changed as she spoke; his eyes had softened, the expression saying something like surprise. But Elena didn't know at what.

He walked towards her, sitting on the edge of her bed, as far away from her as the space allowed. The look- the look she half feared and half hated was back on his face. The look he put on when he pretended that nothing mattered to him.

"I was trying to figure out why. Why you bother, with what you do. But you don't even know, yourself,, do you? You don't even know what you've done."

Elena's mouth opened in shock; was he _accusing_ her of something? An what did he even _mean? _But before she could make a sound of protest, he was gone. Just gone. Elena looked around her room, confused, finally noticing that her window was open.

_That's how he got in_, she thought, worried. _But it didn't explain _why_. _


	6. When You're Alone Is That When You Know?

Elena was about to knock on the door of the Salvatore residence, when she realized that once again, it had been left unlocked, the door slightly ajar. She supposed vampires didn't find locks all that necessary; no human intruder posed a threat, and any vampire enemy wasn't going to be stopped by a lock in the first place.

She slowly walked inside, making her way to Stefan's room. It was the afternoon after everything that had happened, and although she could feel that she wasn't quite ready to discuss it, she also knew that she had to. She was pushing herself, but she needed to be pushed. She paused mid-step, a little voice in her head wondering if Damon was home, before continuing up the stairs.

* * *

Stefan heard her coming before she arrived in his bedroom doorway- in fact, he'd known she was there the second she'd pulled into the driveway. As soon as her small frame appeared in his line of sight, he smiled and crossed the room to hug her, holding her tightly, not wanting to ever let her go. He'd come so, _so_ close to loosing her last night- and the fact that he owed her survival to Damon was still shocking to him. Whatever had changed in Damon to make him finally see the reality of what Katherine had been, he didn't know. But he didn't want to think about it. Not with Elena in his arms.

Elena had hugged him back, of course, but he finally noticed that her grip was stiff, her arms at odd angles. It was very mechanical, and automatic, and in an instant, he knew something was wrong.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He asked, holding her delicate face between his hands, looking into her eyes. She had a certain look in them, one that he'd come to know in her face- part determination, part apprehension. She had something important to tell him.

"We need to talk," Elena replied softly. Stefan nodded and led her towards the edge of his bed, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently. He never wanted to stop touching her; to him she had become that much more fragile, that much more breakable, after the Katherine confrontation. He wanted nothing more than to always feel her, always be there to protect her, to make up for how he'd failed so utterly the night before. It would be another century, if not longer, before he would forgive himself for letting Katherine get the best of him.

He wasn't exactly sure how Elena and Damon had even ended up in the tomb- they were supposed to have stayed at the house. But Damon had left the night before, shortly after accompanying him to drop off Elena, and Stefan hadn't seen him since. And Elena had been too shell-shocked for him to even _think _of asking her. But maybe she was about to tell him.

Stefan immediately took Elena's hand in his as they sat down at the end of his bed. She looked away, and he thought maybe he'd hurt her somehow- who knew if she had any bruises from her dealings with Katherine?- so he released his grip and angled his body towards hers, inviting her to open up to him.

"What do you want to tell me, Elena? You can tell me anything," He said, his voice steady and sincere. Although it was rare that his voice was anything but, when talking to Elena.

Elena ran her hand through her long, dark hair, pushing it back, out of her face. She exhaled with force, as if that would prepare her for whatever she was about to say.

"Stefan," Elena whispered, a twinge of shame in her eyes, as she turned to look at him. "I can't…I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry. I am. But we need to break up. Again."

Stefan's jaw dropped, his green eyes wide in shock. This was not what he had expected. This was his worst nightmare.

* * *

Elena cringed at the look on his face- Stefan's handsome, kind face, wracked with sadness. She hated that she could do that to him, with just six little words- but she didn't regret her decision.

She waited for him to say something.

"Why?"

His voice was low, desperate with pain. She frowned, and stood up, suddenly angry. Why? He had the audacity to ask _why_?

"You don't get it, do you, Stefan? I'm relieved that you're alive, thankful that Katherine didn't hurt you worse than she did, because I would never want anything to happen to you. But another near death experience doesn't change what you did. Doesn't change what you _always_ do," Elena explained, her arms across her chest, her breathing tight.

Darkness washed over Stefan's face. It was his time to be in awe.

"This is about me, telling you to stay here, last night? You're breaking up with me because I tried to keep you _alive_?" He asked, his voice getting louder, dignified. "You can't be serious."

"Jeremy could have _died_ last night, Stefan. You knew that. You knew there was a possibility that no matter what you did, he wouldn't be safe. And look at what did happen. If I hadn't gone, you know what I would be doing right now? Picking out a _casket_," Elena spat, her eyes on fire.

"And that isn't all this is about. You do this _every single time_. Undermine my strength, my decision, every single time. _You_ chose when to tell me about my parents, and how I survived the car crash. _You_ chose when to let me meet you, even though you'd known who I was for months. _You_ chose when to tell me you were a vampire, and that Damon had been responsible for all the 'animal attacks'. _You_ chose when to tell me when I was adopted. _You _chose to tell me about how Damon knew my mother. And _you_ never even told me, about how I was _identical_ to Katherine. I had to find a _picture _of her on your desk after we _slept _together," Elena continued, shaking her head in disgust.

"What if I hadn't found that picture, Stefan? How long would it had been before you told me, yourself? Weeks? Months? _Ever_?"

Stefan was silent, his hands balled into fists at his side. He had a million things to say, but he shot them all down- because he knew, deep down, she was right. Those were all of his mistakes. All of his lies. And she had every right to hate him for them. Elena went on.

"You choose how this relationship goes, never considering what I want, what I'm capable of. Never considering that I'm my own, strong person, who can make her own decisions- you just make them for me. I'm not some china doll, Stefan. I'm not going to break. I can handle my own _life_. But you never let me."

Her voice had grown soft now, the anger turning into sadness, the fire in her eyes disintegrating to ash. "And the one time I fought back, before last night, when I defended myself against that vampire Noah, you didn't even listen to how I felt. How it felt to finally take charge of a situation. You just patronized me, and chalked it up to 'adrenaline'."

Stefan's ears perked up when those words left her mouth- _before last night_- and he looked up, sharply, his eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean, before last night?" He asked, taking a step towards her.

Elena shook out her hair, her hands at her waist.

"Who do you think staked Katherine, Stefan? Damon wasn't strong enough. Damon was going to die. I killed her, to save us all."

And at he revelation, Stefan had to sit back down, his head between his hands. Elena….killing something? It just didn't compute. She wasn't capable of such violence. At least, he hadn't thought she was…

"Surprising, isn't it? Except that it shouldn't be. You claim to love me, but you don't even know me. You have this perfect image of what you want me to be, but that's not who I am. At least not anymore. I'm not going to act all dainty and defenseless. It isn't 1864, Stefan. If you hadn't realized, women can even vote, now, too," Elena said sarcastically, knowing the words were harsher than they really needed to be. But she had to drive this point home.

"And even now, I still love you. I already know that I will never stop caring whether you live or die, or if you're sad or happy. But I really wish I didn't. I really wish I hated you. Because that's the worst part…loving someone I don't trust."

Stefan looked up at this, the expression on his face grim. The fact that she still loved him was a small consolation- but not after that. She was serious.

Tears were at her eyes, as she finished her explanation, repeating her last words.

"I don't trust you, anymore, Stefan. And I don't think I ever will."

And with that, she turned on her heel, and left.

* * *

"I really wish I didn't. I really wish I hated you. Because that's the worst part- loving someone I don't trust. I don't trust you anymore, Stefan. And I don't think I ever will."

Damon sat on the couch downstairs, nursing a glass of bourbon. Stefan didn't know he was back- he'd only just snuck in- but he'd been back long enough to hear the tail end of Elena's little speech. He was shocked. Was this girl out of her mind?

His mind raced through the events of the last day: Elena saying she'd never forgive Stefan, but then her worrying about getting him unchained, Elena running back into the tomb, instead of saving herself, just to protect Stefan- and now, she was breaking up with him? He just didn't get it.

He took another swill of alcohol, savoring the burn in the back of his throat. The thought crossed his mind that if he'd been human, he'd probably have cirrhosis of the liver by now. But he didn't particularly care.

The sound of hurried footsteps on the creaky, wooden stairs made him want to turn his head, but he didn't. Because he knew that he'd lock eyes with Elena, and then he'd have to say something snaky to block out the effect her presence had on his- well, whatever was gnawing on the inside of his ribcage- and then she'd probably start crying, and he'd feel even worse.

So he stared into the fire, the one he'd lit simply so he'd have something to look at, and tried to ignore the fact that she'd paused, no doubt only a few feet behind him, staring bullets into the back of his head. But she'd obviously thought better of whatever she had been planning on saying to him because she started walking again, towards the front door, and was gone.

If only he wasn't such a worthless coward, he'd have stopped her. Would have gotten up, said hello, and finally, _finally_ asked her all the questions that were burning in his brain. The questions he'd wanted to ask her last night. But he hadn't, and he didn't, and he shouldn't. So he poured himself yet another drink, and listened to the sounds his dear brother's feet were making as Stefan paced around his bedroom above Damon's head.

* * *

Elena had seen Damon, sitting on the duvet, staring into the fire that was crackling in front of him. Immediately, her mind had whirled. Why had he accused her of something last night, and then taken off without explaining himself? Why wasn't he even acknowledge the fact that she was there? _Why was there a damn fire lit when it was 75 degrees outside?_

She knew damn well that he'd known she was there, so he had no excuse for the fact that he hadn't at least said "Hello, Elena" in that infuriating, I-know-what-you're-thinking tone of his. He was a vampire, after all- being able to distinguish a human's presence apart from, say, _a piece of furniture_, seemed to be an integral aspect of the job description.

But most of all, she didn't know why his ignoring her pissed her off so much. _Maybe it's residual_, she thought, driving home in Jenna's red Volvo, at a speed that wasn't exactly condoned on residential streets. _Maybe it's just leftover anger from Stefan_.

But she knew that wasn't the truth, and she shook her head vehemently, even though there was no one else around to contradict besides herself. _Or maybe, just maybe, all the compassion he's been showing lately is just another one of his games. _But that thought didn't fill Elena up with rage, as it ought to have.

It just made a space in her heart for sickening disappointment to fill.

* * *

By the time Damon woke up, the living room was shrouded in darkness. The fire had long since gone out, and sometime between Elena storming out of the house and the sun setting, he'd fallen asleep in a drunken stupor.

But a buzz never did last long for a vampire- a fact that he took only as a challenge to get as drunk for as long as possible- so by this point, he wasn't even buzzed. In fact, he was fully awake. And he was tired of his own bullshit.

Damon stood up quickly, putting his leather jacket, and trashing the empty liquor bottle. He scanned the house, using all his senses, for any indication that Stefan was still home. But he came up empty.

_Probably off somewhere, driving rabbits to extinction_, he thought cynically. And then he was gone,

* * *

It was almost eleven o'clock. Elena had spent the remainder of her day, very pointedly not thinking about either of the Salvatores, or vampires, in general. Stefan hadn't called, and she was grateful for that. For once, she had used her day like a normal girl did- she'd taken a nap, watched crappy TV, played video games with Jeremy- who had kept randomly hugging her, she guessed, to make sure she was really alive- and finally, helped Jenna make dinner.

The rest of the house was silent now, and once again, sleep wouldn't come. She didn't even feel the need to write in her diary. It seemed almost pointless at that moment. She didn't know why, but it did. It was like what she had to say didn't matter, because nothing really mattered, so why bother? Stefan had betrayed her for the last time, she had a niggling suspicion that Damon pretty much hated her for what she'd done to Katherine, and…no matter how many times she'd wake up, and realize it had all been a nightmare; no matter how many times she wished it wasn't true- her parents were still dead. It would seem that what she'd told Damon the night before was more true than she'd realized.

It all matters a little less, when what matters most is gone.

A hot tear slipped down her cheek as she recalled her own somber words.

You're being ridiculous, Elena Gilbert. It's been almost a year. Shouldn't you be over it by now?

But the second Elena asked herself that question, she realized with a start, that maybe she would never be over it. And that realization brought her to sobs.

Painful, blinding sobs escaped her throat. This was the crying she'd done when she'd woken up in the hospital after the accident, to find she'd survived and they hadn't. This was the crying she'd done when she'd broken up with Stefan for the first time. But this crying was a little different, too- it had a sense of hopelessness she'd never had before.

In the hospital, she'd reasoned, time would heal all wounds.

After Stefan, she'd reasoned, she would get over him.

But now, she couldn't reason anymore. She'd given it time, she'd given him another chance, and look where she was. Back where it had all started, crying like a lunatic over her pathetic diary. _A diary_, she scoffed inwardly. _Did you think that just because it was the last thing mom ever gave you, that it would make it okay? _

With a flash of anger, Elena picked up the diary, and flung it against the wall as hard as she could, not bothering to see if it hit anything. But after a few seconds, she realized it hadn't made a sound. It hadn't landed. What the hell?

And when she looked up, to see what had happened, she was looking into the eyes of none other than Damon.

"Elena," Damon scolded, flashing a smile at the diary that he'd apparently caught, before setting it down on her dresser. "Are you trying to take my head off?"

* * *

Damon had heard the sobs long before he'd gotten to her house- his enhanced hearing had a long range, especially when he was attuned to a person's emotions. The noises broke something inside him, as he punched the accelerator to get to her home faster.

Elena was on her bed, completely distraught, as he watched her from the tree outside her window. The noises were incomparable- he'd heard people cry out in pain, and in fear- often because of _him_- but this was different. Her cries were filled with such a raw, unbridled despair that he couldn't stop the empathy that was forming in his chest, even as he was appalled by it. Elena wasn't just sad. She was unstable. She was falling apart. She was completely, and utterly, _broken_.

He felt a twinge of pain in himself, just before his mind went to the cold, dark place- the place in his head that made him feel worthless, undeserving; the place that all of his doubt and distrust and hate came from; the place that told him it was _okay_ to be a monster.

_You know what she's crying about, don't you? _the darkness lashed out at him, before he could stop himself. _Stefan. _

And Damon succumbed to it, thinking, it was probably right. The pathetic human girl was probably just regretting her own decision of letting his holier-than-thou brother go. It was disgusting. He couldn't watch it.

_But I came here for a reason_, he remembered, stopping himself from turning away. _And the girl's going to give me my answers.I'm not going to repeat last night._

And just like that, he had gone from caring, to empathizing, to hating, to not caring. His perfect façade was back up like a Venetian mask. What did her thoughts matter to him? She was nothing, except a silly little girl that he was going to dazzle with his charm, until he got his answers, and then he got gone.

She didn't notice as he hopped into her bedroom from his perch outside the window. But he was only in for a moment before something came flying at his head. He caught it before it hit him, of course- even though the object, which had been thrown with all of her force, probably wouldn't have even left a mark.

She was still looking down, though- the book- what was this, her diary?- hadn't been intended to hit him. So he responded playfully; charmingly; manipulatively. And as he spoke, he took pleasure in the shock that crossed her features at his presence.


	7. You Should Try Not To Be So Courageous

"What are you _doing here_, Damon?" Elena demanded, her voice thick with tears. She could only imagine what her _face_ looked like. But she didn't give a damn what he thought. Her whole world was falling apart, and at some point, her sadness had turned to bitterness, and her bitterness to anger. Damon could rip her throat out if the mood struck him, for all she cared in that moment. She wasn't about to inhibit her emotions just because he'd decided to pop on over and be _weird _again.

Damon's eyebrows shot up, feigning surprise at her attitude.

"My, my, Miss Gilbert. Are we PMS'ing today?" Damon asked, picking the diary back up and tossing it on the bed. "Maybe you should write about it."

Elena was furious now. She launched herself off of her bed, the heels of her hands extended forward, intending to push Damon back out the window he'd come in through. But Damon simply caught her by the wrists, holding her in place.

"If you wanted me to hold your hand, really, you could have just asked," He said lazily, his grip tight, but not painful.

Elena sneered at him, pulling her hands away. She figured that the only way for him to either A.) act decent or B.) get the hell out of her room, was just to play his game right back at him.

She crossed her arms over her chest, a comeback all lined up in her head. But for a second, her mind flashed back to when Damon had given her his blood to fix her broken arm, the tender look of apprehension he'd given her, the pained look on his face when she'd screamed. What had _happened_ to him between then and now? Why the sudden behavioral changes?

And then it dawned on her: Katherine. _Oh, God. Why didn't i realize it before? He was still in love with her, _Elena thought, her eyes running up Damon's form as her guilt grew to a crushing weight inside her chest. _No wonder he's being like this. This had to have been what he was talking about. I __**destroyed **__him_.

* * *

Elena was running her eyes up and down his body in the strangest way. He'd seen a thousand girls- if not more- do the same exact thing, but somehow, in whatever she did, Elena managed to surprise him. The look on her face was _nowhere near _lust. It almost looked like…guilt. Shame. Pity. But in the last two minutes, he'd broken into her room, more or less implied she was being a bitch, mocked her for it, and then proceeded to just generally do what she called "being an ass." Why she would be feeling any of those emotions towards him was yet another mystery that was Elena Gilbert. But before he could make a snide comment about her wanting his body, or something to make her equally uncomfortable, she spoke.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" She asked, her eyes shining in wonder. Damon's body tensed all over.

"_What?" _Damon asked. He was so thrown; he'd forgotten his I-do-not-care resolve. This girl was honestly curious as to _why he had not killed her_. What the _hell_?

Elena cleared her throat, and clarified what she meant.

"I just mean…you must hate me so much…I don't know how you've managed it. Why you're even holding back. Why not just kill me?"

Damon stared at her as if she'd just crash-landed from an alien world, and asked to go out for pancakes.

"What makes you think I hate you?" He asked, not letting his confusion show in his voice.

"I…I killed her. I killed the love of your life. And then, last night, you said, 'I didn't even know what I'd done'. And ever since then, you've just ignored me, or mocked me…but, Damon, listen to me, _please_. I know you don't care. I know you're going to do whatever you want to anyways. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry I staked her. It's just…she was hurting you. I thought you…I was afraid…" Elena paused, shaking her head to stop herself from her next word. Then she repeated, softly almost in a whisper: "I'm _sorry_."

Damon's expression didn't change at all. He just blinked, and blinked, as if the girl in front of him and the words she'd just spoken were a hallucination, and that if he blinked enough times he'd realize it wasn't real.

_She thinks I was still in love with Katherine_, Damon thought, his mind numb. _And she just apologized. Apologized for saving all of our lives from a homicidal, psychopathic vampire. Because she thinks I loved that vampire. She's sorry she saved her own life, and probably my own, because it hurt my _**feelings. **

Damon repeated the explanation over and over in his head, but it didn't make sense any way he looked at it. It was completely irrational. And then he couldn't wait any longer. He had to know, right then and there. What was her ultimate agenda? Why were here ulterior motives? What did she possibly benefit from by caring so much about _people_?

"Elena, why did you save my life in Atlanta?" Damon asked, staring into her eyes. He wasn't compelling her, but his gaze was so intense that they were influence enough in their own.

Elena was confused, but she answered anyways.

"Because I didn't want you to die," Elena replied, her eyebrows coming together in a way that suggested it was obvious.

"And why did you run back into the tomb, after you were already free?" Damon braced himself for this answer; he was positive it was going to be because of Stefan. And for some reason, the thought of that being the answer made him sick to his stomach.

"Because…you were weak. You didn't have a weapon. I knew- I knew you would get Stefan out somehow. I knew you wouldn't break your promise. But I didn't want you to get hurt because of it. I didn't…I didn't want you to die," Elena repeated dumbly, at a loss for words.

Damon was shocked. She'd come back….for him? She had risked her life, because _she_ had wanted to protect _him_?

"You risked _your_ life, by pitting yourself against a homicidal _vampire_, on two _separate_ occasions_,_ just because you didn't want _me_ to _die_?" Damon asked incredulously, trying to make sense of it.

Elena swallowed, nodding her head. She didn't know what else to say.

"And you do realize, that on more occasions than I can remember, I've killed people without a single thought? Not a single thought to who they were, or who they loved, or who was going to miss them- without a single ounce of remorse? You do realize, that I _should_ be dead?" Damon demanded, his voice growing louder and desperate.

He needed Elena to understand that she wasn't _supposed_ to trust him. She wasn't supposed to want him _alive_. She was supposed to hate him, and fear him, and any other emotion there was, _besides_ the ones she actually had. He was a monster, and she didn't see it, and he couldn't figure out why.

Elena shook her head violently, uncrossing her arms.

"Don't _say_ that, Damon. I know what you've done. I know who you are. And you deserve _a lot _of things. But you don't deserve to die. You _don't _deserve to die."

And with that her tears started anew, but they were silent tears, not for herself, but for Damon. She threw her arms around, for the second time since they'd met, and hugged him tightly. But this time, Damon hugged her back.

It was awkward- which was a first. Damon wasn't sure what kind of a response would be appropriate. For the first time, Damon Salvatore fumbled, not sure where to put his hands, before he finally decided to wrap them around the middle of her back, and soon he found himself stroking her hair.

She'd stopped crying now, but her grip on him was as tight as before. Damon didn't know how many moments had passed- they could have been standing there for hours for all he knew. He was lost in the warmth of her arms, the silken touch of her hair, and her words that he'd repeated to himself a dozen times, if not more. _You don't deserve to die, Damon. You don't deserve to die. _

Elena finally pulled her head back, and stared into his eyes. They were shining so brightly, so blue, they were almost white.

"So you don't hate me?"

Damon looked at her, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken question. He had been about to say "of course I don't hate you" when he realized, with a start, that he could _never_ hate her. So, for once, he was honest.

"I wasn't still in love her, Elena. I don't know if i ever was. And that wasn't when I meant last night. I meant, you didn't know…what you've done to me."

Elena looked confused.

"And what did I do to you?" She asked, honestly not knowing.

Damon put his hand to her face, touching her hair, slipping it behind her hair, before cupping her chin in the softest of grips. "You make me feel human," He whispered.

Elena tilted her head, taking his face in, her expression gentle, an almost smile on her lips. She thought of the fear that had flowed through her veins, whenever Damon's life had been in danger. She thought of the smile he brought to her eyes, whenever he did something completely ridiculous. She thought of the agony she'd felt when she thought she was the reason he was sad. And she thought of the way everything had seemed so perfect in that bar in Atlanta, at least for a few hours.

"And you make things matter again," Elena whispered, before laying the tiniest, most chaste of kisses, on his cheek. Elena knew that he knew what she meant.

Elena smiled at Damon's expression; his astonishment was plain as day, written on his face. And in the space of a blink, he was gone. She smiled and sighed, knowing that everything was going to be okay, before turning out her light and drifting to sleep.

* * *

Damon had gone, but had not gone far. He was on the ground, outside her house, under her window, hidden in the darkness of the night.

Hid hand reached up, touching his face, at the spot where her lips had touched him.

_Well I'll be damned_, Damon thought, remembering what Katherine had said in the tomb_. I am in love with her. _

And for the briefest of seconds, for the briefest of moments, the monster in Damon's head had nothing to say- and a genuine smile came to the elder Salvatore's face, just before he disappeared into the night.

And up in her room, already fast asleep, Elena Gilbert smiled as she dreamed.


	8. Open Your Mind, Don't Leave Me Outside

**A/N: the following section in italics is, in fact, a dream. some people were unsure and i just wanted to confirm it so no one was confused(:**

_Elena was in a house, but it was unfamiliar. She had never been here before, and there wasn't anything special about it. She briefly wondered how she'd gotten there, and why, and if she was even still in Mystic Falls. But the thoughts slid through her mind like water droplets down a windshield; the questions just didn't seem that important. _

_She exited the bedroom she'd been in, and walked down the hallway, smiling at the sunlight that flooded through uncovered windows, but not looking through them to the outside world. As she ambled through the seemingly endless hall, she was suddenly _struck_- not psychically, but mentally. Struck with a feeling of fear, of anticipation. She didn't know why, but she _had _to go outside- something was happening, something big. Something _she_, and only she, could prevent. _

_Elena took off for the front door, not even questioning how she knew where it was, and ripped it open, running out to greet the danger she knew she would meet. _

_But once she'd thrown open the door, it had became night time. The darkness enveloped her and the sky was open before her, the stars gleaming like a thousand tiny diamonds. But before she could appreciate them, she saw a figure, crouched on the ground. Middle-aged, blonde, and thin, the woman crying into her arm as she sat defenseless on the cold, dirty ground. _

_Elena was farther away from the woman than the creature that was threatening her, but she somehow managed to get in between them, separating the woman from her attacker, putting herself directly in harm's way. But it didn't matter what happened to her, because somehow, she knew it was _him_. It was _his _eyes that were red with blood, _his_ fangs protruding, _his_ face contorted like a demon's, ready to bite. _

"_No, Damon, don't!" Elena screamed, putting her hands on his shoulders, trying to stop him from advancing. She could feel the soft familiar leather of his jacket under her fingertips. It was the only thing so far that seemed familiar. _

_His face changed, and he paused, when it struck him that Elena was the one preventing him from getting at his prey. The bloodlust was still running through his veins, though; he didn't know how he was controlling himself from ripping into Elena's neck._

"_Kill _me_, Damon. Kill _me_ if you have to. But not her," Elena pleaded, begging for the woman's life. Damon looked from Elena to the woman on the ground, and then back to Elena. _

"What are you doing, Elena_? Why would you throw yourself in front of me when I'm like this? Why are you protecting her?" Damon seethed, a growl in the back of his throat, his voice more animal than human, as he struggled to ignore the instinct to kill whoever was available. Didn't she know how _dangerous_ he was? How stupid it was to put herself in _his_ way?_

"_I'm not here to save her," Elena whispered, her hands leaving his jacket and traveling up the side of his face, gently sliding her finger over the sharp edge of a fang. "I'm here to save _you_." _

* * *

Elena awoke with a start, grabbing at the sheets around her, gasping for air. She had a feeling it was late in the day, because the sun was streaming across her bed, warming her skin as she struggled to breath normally, instead of hyperventilating.

_It was just a dream_, Elena thought, as she stumbled out of bed, checking for her vervain necklace as she headed for the bathroom. She found the cool, metal pendant at the base of her throat. _Just a dream. Just a dream. _

As she ran her brush through her long, brown hair, the last step in her morning routine, Elena wondered what the dream could have possibly meant. Did it have to do with what had happened the night before?

Damon had opened up to her in a way she had never thought possible, and she'd finally admitted to caring about him...possibly more than a friend should. She'd admitted something she hadn't even known was there to be admitted, until his honesty had brought it out of her subconscious.

_He has a soul, and a heart_, Elena mused, slowly making her way down the stairs of her home, her stomach grumbling. _He really does_.

In everything they'd been through, Elena's opinion of him had constantly been evolving. Every time she chipped away at the metaphorical rock surrounding him, revealing his humanity, she'd let herself care for him a little more- but then, every time he'd replaced what she'd chipped at, sealing himself back up from her friendship, she'd become resentful.

His outlook on humans was certainty the most appalling; and all that he'd done was enough to damn him completely. But after the walls she'd torn down last night, the glances she got into what she knew, without a doubt, had been his soul- knew that he had never been a monster to begin with, despite what he wanted everyone to believe. She felt disappointed in herself for all the times she'd doubted him, all the cruel things she'd said to him- but he'd made mistakes, too. Had been selfish beyond belief at times. So neither of them were perfect.

Elena ate her breakfast in silence- Jenna had gone to visit a friend, and Jeremy was who knows where. She wondered , with a pain in her chest, if he was truly over Vicki yet. She didn't think so.

Elena got up from the table, turning- right into Damon himself. She yelped and dropped her plate she'd been intending to rinse in the sink- but Damon's cat-like reflexes enabled him to catch it before it hit the ground.

"Thanks for that," Elena said softly, as he handed the plate back to her. "That would have been a mess to clean up."

Damon smiled at the fact that she didn't even seem surprised at his random appearance in her home, and followed her to the kitchen sink, where she was running her plate under warm water. Damon eyed the black and silver dishwasher, recalling the other times he'd helped do dishes.

"You know in my day, we didn't have such appliances. Quite convenient." Small talk wasn't really Damon Salvatore's forte, but after the night before, he wanted to keep the mood light.

Elena rolled her eyes, scrubbing at the plate.

"Please, Damon. You didn't even have cars when you were my age, and you're commenting on the convenience of a dishwasher?" Elena joked.

Damon smiled slightly. "Touché."

Once she was done cleaning up, Elena leaned herself against the counter, her arms crossed lazily against her chest.

"Why are you here, Damon?" She asked gently. It wasn't a demand; she was just curious. But Damon was in a playful mood.

"Ouch, Miss Gilbert. I didn't realize I needed an excuse to stop by," Damon said, mock-hurt tainting his voice as he raised a hand to his chest. "But I can see that I'm not wanted…" He turned to the door, as if to leave, but Elena grabbed at his arm just as he was turning back, and somehow they ended up against the kitchen table, her hand around his arm, their bodies pushed up against each other and their faces just inches away.

Elena stared into his irises, almost mesmerized. Damon's throat caught- she wasn't- she wasn't going to kiss him again, was she? But he stopped himself from that thought- a kiss on the cheek hardly counted. It was time to get over it.

"I had a dream about you," Elena whispered, her eyes searching his, not letting go of his arm. It was a little too much for Damon, so he broke the moment.

"And I'm assuming I was naked, right?" Damon asked, smirking.

Elena scoffed, but in a pleasant, embarrassed way, and took a step back, releasing him.

"Not _every _dream you star in involves you removing your pants, you know," Elena scolded, crossing the room to sit on the couch. She tucked her legs underneath her, and pulled a pillow across her chest. She felt the need to have…a barrier of some kind, between herself and him. Not because she feared him, or didn't trust him, but because she didn't fully trust _herself_.

Damon followed her, sitting on the same couch, his body a chaste distance away. He jumped on the word she hadn't even noticed she'd said.

"Not 'every' dream? So there have been others? That _were_ without pants?" Damon prodded, ticking up an eyebrow. Almost everything about his personality could be conveyed with one simple eyebrow movement. It was ridiculous. And then she blanched, realizing her semantics slip-up.

"Of course not," Elena replied haughtily, shaking her head. "I was just making a point. That not _everybody _wants you."

Damon knew she was lying, of course- about the dreaming part. At least _one_ of the dreams she'd had about him involved them a little under-dressed- because he'd been the one who sneaked into her mind, weaving the images, leaving the thoughts, the emotions. But since she didn't know that he'd been behind that incident, he didn't push it. Instead, he moved on to the next thing she'd said.

"Nonsense. Of course everyone wants me. I'm _irr-i-sistable_."

Elena gave him a look, like, "yeah, _right_." But she couldn't help but smile a little. He was so arrogant sometimes, but it was endearing. In any other person, it would have been revolting, but with him…well, it made all the difference that it was _true. _Elena knew he was attractive- she wasn't blind- and she knew that pretty much no girl had ever rejected him, compulsion accredited or not. But for some reason, she didn't like thinking about all the girls who _hadn't_ rejected him. So she repeated her original question.

"But seriously, why _are_ you here, Damon? Is something wrong?"

Damon shook his head.

"Nuh-uh-uh. Not just yet. We're not just going to skip over this little dream of yours. Tell me about it."

Elena was surprised at the sincerity in his voice- he actually seemed like he wanted to know what happened. And they were friends now, right? Friends hung out in their living rooms and talked about dreams and goofed off. So she told him.

""It was…it was weird. I don't know how I got there, or where I was. But I was in a house. It was daytime, and no one else was there. So I just started walking around," Elena started, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, and sitting up straighter, leaning towards Damon subconsciously.

"Breaking and entering, Elena? I'm shocked."

Elena rolled her eyes, a mannerism she seemed to only pick up when Damon was around, and continued.

"Anyways. I'm walking down the hallway, not really thinking about anything, when all of a sudden…I'm just afraid. Something's going to happen, something's already happening, and I'm the only one who can stop it. So I start running, and I find the door, and I get out."

Damon didn't say anything, just kept listening. But inside he was full of exasperated disbelief; it was _just like _Elena to think she had to save the world.

"But once I'm outside, it's dark. And there's this woman crying on the ground, about to be attacked…by a vampire. So I stop it. I jump in front of her."

Elena's eyes clouded over, looking up at Damon. He looked confused; concerned.

"And I'm begging for her life…and it was you. You were the one trying to kill her. I told you not to…I told you to kill _me_, instead. But you stopped. You listened to me. And when you asked me why I was trying to save her…I said that I was saving _you_."

Elena wasn't sure how Damon would react. Would he be mad she'd dreamed of him killing? Or would he think it funny? She never knew what to expect with him; she waited patiently for him to say something, because his expression gave nothing away. When he did speak, he was serious.

"Elena. You need to promise me something. You need to promise me that you will never, _ever _do that in real life. To me, or any other vampire. That is the stupidest thing you could ever do," Damon said, his voice quiet, but sharp, with unspoken pain.

Elena frowned, angered by his reaction.

"Contrary to what you might think, Damon, saving someone's life is not _stupid,_" Elena spat, starting to get off the couch. But Damon was already shaking his head, grabbing at her arm for her to stay.

"That's not what I meant, Elena. I mean that…throwing yourself in front of a vampire like that? Right before they're about to feed? In your dream, I stopped. But that's because it was your _dream_. In real life…I may not have that self-control. If you actually did that, I might not be able to stop myself…from attacking whoever was in front of me."

Elena swallowed in fear, a reaction to the pain in Damon's words. She could tell that the thought of him killing her- even if accidentally- deeply upset him. She sat back down, taking his hand in hers.

"I'm sorry, Damon. But I can't promise that," Elena replied, looking in his eyes. They seemed to be the place she found herself these days when feeling her rawest emotions. It didn't make sense to her, but she didn't question it. Damon brought out a part of her that she never thought she had- and other parts she wasn't sure she'd ever seen again. Which was why she couldn't lie to him, and make a promise she didn't know she could keep.

"Why, Elena? Why would you put yourself in that position?" Damon asked, incredulous. He bitterly noted that he was asking the same question she'd dreamed he would ask.

Elena frowned, and decided maybe her dream had been more prophetic than metaphorical. Her hand went up to his face, her thumb grazing his mouth, the only difference being his fangs were not extended in this reality.

"Because. Maybe I _am s_upposed to save you."

Damon's face was calm, as his hand reached up to hold hers to his face.

"That's what I came here to tell you, Elena," He breathed, his eyes never leaving hers. "I think that you already have."

Elena frowned again; how could she have already of saved him? She wasn't even sure yet what the 'saving' part meant, exactly.

"What do you mean?"

And Damon smiled, genuinely smiled, as he said, "I'm in love with you, Elena Gilbert."


	9. All I Want To Do, Is Be Mended By You

Elena's face showed the shock she felt, but as she saw the fear begin to rise in Damon's eyes, she closed her mouth- she hadn't even realized she had let her jaw drop. She tried to keep her disbelief out of her voice; she didn't want to hurt him. Not when he was starting to change, and for the good.

"I…I'm not Katherine, Damon. I'm not a replacement," She said quietly, trying to be kind. Damon shook his head subconsciously, leaning towards her.

"I'm not looking for a replacement, Elena. I didn't love her. I don't think I _ever_ really did. And you're right- you're _not_ her. You could _never _be the monster that she was. This has nothing to do with a replacement for me and everything to do with _you_." Damon was pleading with her, trying to get her to understand.

Elena swallowed, nodding. "I believe you."

Damon smiled again, for a brief second, before it left his face and took her hand off his cheek and placed it back in her lap.

"But you don't feel the same." It wasn't a question; Damon had said it as a statement. And once again, before Elena could respond, Damon was gone.

But unlike the night before, when Elena had been sure everything would be okay, she was now left unsure of _anything_.

Damon _loved_ her. Was _in love _with her. And not because she looked like Katherine, or because he thought he could somehow change her _into _Katherine- he loved her because of _herself. _Elena wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it- let alone what she felt back. It was all too much; they had been so comfortable, so happy, just moments before…and now, that was all lost. Now, Damon was upset, and she was confused, and everything was another emotional mess.

And because it was the middle of the day, Elena didn't even have the luxury of crying herself to sleep.

* * *

Stefan hadn't spoken to Elena in over twenty-four hours. It had been more than twenty-four complete hours since they'd broken up. All of those hours of her hating him, and all those hours he'd spent alone, knowing he was the sole person at fault for ruining the best thing that had happened to him in almost two centuries' worth of existence.

He had tried to ignore the gaping hole in his chest, but it was no use. He'd hunted until he felt bloated, he'd delved into his own rarely-touched liquor cabinet, he'd attempted to read, and he'd turned on the TV- searching for some thing, _anything_, to occupy his mind for a full five minutes. But none of it had worked.

In his final stage of desperation, he'd even looked for _Damon_, thinking that maybe being around another person- if Damon could be called that- might help. But Damon was nowhere to be found. _Probably off, persuading more college girls into being his dinner, _Stefan thought, his mind full of contempt.

_Damon_ was the real reason he had acted how he had. If Damon hadn't posed such a threat, hadn't been around to torment him and Elena, then he could have been more honest with her. Their relationship could have been normal, and she would still trust him. _But there's no changing the past_, he reminded himself with a grimace.

He'd had enough- it was time for him to go talk to Elena. She wouldn't just ignore him, would she? No. She was sweeter than that. Cared about him more than that. She would at least talk to him again, give him a chance to fix this. Right? Well, he had to try.

But just as Stefan opened the door of the mansion to leave- there she was. Elena. It was almost as if his thoughts had made her materialize out of thin air. He'd never been so happy to see anyone in his whole life. And even better, _she'd_ come to him. Probably because she was as broken up over how things had ended as he was.

Stefan smiled as the hope that had been fluttering in his chest bloomed, and he stepped aside for Elena to come in.

* * *

Elena had had enough wallowing. Sure, her life was a mess. And sure- she didn't know how she felt about everything that had transpired between her and Damon. But if her parent's passing, not to mention her induction into the world of the supernatural, had taught her anything, it was that difficult situations had to be dealt with head-on. So an hour or so after Damon had left, Elena threw on her jacket and drove to the Salvatore mansion, prepared to talk to him.

But when she got up to the door and Stefan had opened it, she was thrown. With everything that had happened with Damon, she had _completely forgotten _about Stefan. The breakup that had only happened yesterday seemed like it had happened _years_ ago. She was unable to speak at first, but when Stefan stepped to the side as an invitation to enter the house, she did.

"Elena. I'm so glad you came over," Stefan said as he shut the door, a shy smile playing at his lips. Elena just nodded. _He thinks I came here to see him_, Elena thought, shifting her weight. She felt uncomfortable letting him think she was there to see him, but she couldn't bring herself to admit the real reason she was there. But she had to know if Damon was in the house somewhere, able to overhear the conversation Stefan was expecting them to have. So she asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Is Damon here?"

Stefan shook his head. "No, he went out, earlier... Hasn't been back since. Why?"

Elena smiled at him weakly; what she was about to say wasn't _technically_ lying. Right?

"Just want to make sure he can't hear us or anything."

Stefan nodded, his hand on her back as he guided her into the living room to sit on the couch. It reminded Elena of the very first time she'd ever been in the house, when she'd first met Damon. Damon had put his hand at her back, too, guiding her in the same way, only his hand had been slightly lower than Stefan's was now. She smiled inwardly at the memory.

"So. Uhm, what do you…want to say?" Elena asked, not sure how to broach the subject. She was resolute in her decision that she and Stefan were over. She would always care for him…but it wasn't the same anymore. It never could be.

"I just want to apologize. Everything you said yesterday- you were right. I am overprotective. I have tried to control where this relationship goes- but only because I wanted everything to be perfect. But that's no excuse, I know," Stefan said, his voice sincere. When Elena didn't say anything, he went on.

"And I do realize that you're strong. That you can handle…everything. I realize it now. I see it in the fact that you saved me, saved us all…you are _not_ some china doll. And I also see, that the only thing I've broken is your trust. But I just need you to accept my apology. Because I love you, Elena. I do."

Elena was quiet, the look on her face imperceptible. Finally, she spoke.

"I accept your apology."

Stefan blew out the breath of air he'd been holding, his face breaking into a grin.

"Thank you, Elena. You have no idea. And I promise you, this time, it'll be different. No lies. No protecting. You can do all the man's work you want," Stefan said, leaning in to kiss her.

Elena pushed herself deeper into the couch, avoiding Stefan's kiss.

"What do you doing, Stefan?" She breathed, confused. Soon she was standing up, looking down at Stefan on the couch, who looked confused. "What do you mean, 'this time'?"

Stefan shook his head, confused laughter stuttering out, as if it were a misunderstanding.

"Well- well, we're back together, that's what I mean. Right?"

Elena shook her head, sympathy clouding her features.

"No, Stefan…we aren't. I accepted your apology- but I told you. I don't trust you. Saying sorry doesn't magically fix that," Elena said, her arms over her chest. She had to get out of there as soon as possible- before Stefan found out why she was _really _there.

"And, the truth is…I don't know that I'm even in love with you anymore. Your betrayal…it's too much, Stefan. I can't do this, _again."_

Stfanm still had that desperately confused look on his face.

"Then…then why did you come here? If you didn't come here to get back together, then why are you here?" Stefan was off the couch now, standing close, too close, to Elena. He looked angry, but she knew he would never hurt her. But she also couldn't bring herself to answer his question.

Elena's silence drove Stefan's mind over the edge. It was almost as if she felt guilty. And then it broke on him, like a storm that had been threatening all along.

"Does this- does this have something to do with Damon?"

Elena's features sharpened at Damon's name, and Stefan could see his suspicions were true. But he wanted to hear her say it.

"Are you in love with him?" Stefan demanded, his voice going up another octave.

Elena remembered what she'd told herself before, about meeting things head-on. And she thought, _It's now or never. It's hide or fight. The truth or nothing. It's time. Time to be honest. _

And as she looked up into Stefan's green eyes, that had turned dark jade with the anger building inside him, she met his gaze coolly, and told him.

"Yes."

Elena didn't know what Stefan's reaction would be- but in a million years, she never would have guessed it would have been what he did.

* * *

Stefan's whole body, that had been tense, relaxed. He was so angry- so angry- that he felt he had been about to explode. He was almost certain that Elena was compelled, that Damon had done something to her that had changed her feelings. But then he saw her vervain pendant, the one he'd given her- still latched around her thin neck, keeping her safe from Damon's influence.

So this really is how she feels, he thought, disappointed. But…I love her. And it's what she wants.

Stefan's hand raised, going to Elena's neck. His fingers touched the vervain-filled charm, grazing over the metal in an almost loving fashion.

"I respect your decision then. If it's what you want, I respect it. At least you made a choice."

Stefan leaned in, giving Elena the barest of kisses on her forehead, before taking a few steps away from her.

"But I still love you. And I always will. So I can't stay here. I can't watch you be…with someone who isn't me. So this is goodbye, Elena." Stefan shoved his hands into his pockets, turning towards the door.

"Stefan," Elena whispered, as his hand touched the doorknob. Stefan looked back at her, his eyes shining with hope.

"Goodbye."

And then, his hope was gone. And so was he.

And in the same instant, Elena felt a pair of hands, surprisingly warm, sliding around her waist. The touch was kind, gentle, and not unwanted. She turned into Damon's hug, embracing him fully. She knew he'd heard what she said- about how she loved him. Words weren't needed. She just let him hold her.

* * *

Damon had been eavesdropping, yet again. It was a bad habit to break, after all. He'd listened in as a way to torture himself. Because he knew- in his bones, in his un-beating heart, in the soul that he so often claimed was nonexistent- he _knew_ that they were going to get back together.

And their reunion would just be proof of the suspicion he'd had all along- he didn't deserve happiness. He wasn't worth it. That the only remnants of humanity that still resided inside him were useless, because they belonged to her. Useless without her, and so, useless to him- because she would forever be his brother's.

But he'd been wrong. She'd said no. And then, amazingly, she'd said _yes_. Yes to loving him. Yes to choosing him. His mind was whirling with happiness- a pure, unadulterated, unmarred happiness, that he couldn't remember ever having feeling before. _She said yes. She said yes. She said yes_.

And then, his arms were around her, and her arms were around him. And he was breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth, seeing her love for him glowing in her eyes- words were completely unnecessary. Because no one had said they had loved him, since his mother had died. It had been over one hundred and sixty years since anyone had spoken those words to him. And to hear them then, from the only person he wanted them to come from- it was unreal. And yet it wasn't. It was happening, right there, right then, and he was the luckiest bastard on the planet. _Maybe humanity is worth more than I thought, if this is what it's supposed to be. _

Elena raised her head from his shoulder, and repeated the words that had brought him back to life: "I love you."

He smiled, tightening his grip around her, and whispered simply:

"I know."


	10. Story Soundtrack NOT A CHAPTER

Note: You don't have to read on if you don't want, This is not an actual chapter. but if you're also a music junkie, like me, you might be interested.

As i write, The music fuels me, and I sort of bounce ideas off of how it makes me feel. Below are the songs that partially inspired me to write "My Soul Is Useless Without You". I've organized the songs by character.

And, just because I'm paranoid: I DO NOT OWN THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, ANY OF THESE SONGS, OR THEIR LYRICS.

Elena Gilbert:

"Fighting For Nothing" - Meg & Dia; Elena thinks about her relationships with both Salvatores, and how she believes what she's fighting for with Katherine.

"Fully Alive"-Flyleaf; Elena feels Stefan doesn't understand who she truly is and what she wants out of their relationship.

"He's Just Not Me" -Artist Vs. Poet; Elena realizes she may not be meant for Stefan...but for Damon.

Damon Salvatore:

"A Walk Through Hell" - Say Anything; Damon secretly wishes he could be Elena's white knight and protect her from Katherine.

"Snake Devil" -Scary Kids Scaring Kids; Damon realizes he never loved Katherine, he had just been controlled by her.

"Courage" -Alien Ant Farm; Damon sees who Elena really is, but at the same time wishes she wasn't so brave, because it often endangers her.

"Honey, Let Me Look In Your Eyes" -Matt Hires; Damon just wants a chance to prove to Elena that they could work, even though he's nowhere near perfect.

Stefan Salvatore:

"Cosmic Love" - Florence And The Machine; Stefan wishes Elena could understand that he may keep her in the dark, but he does it out of love.

"I Used To Have A Heart" -Say Anything, Stefan wants Elena back because she is all he has.


End file.
